


Sheep Shit and Other Things

by BoStarsky



Series: Assorted Kylux [27]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ben is a fake cowboy, Hux is Irish, Hux runs a brothel, Insecurity, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Prostitution, The wild west was gay as hell, This whole thing is so self-indulgent, Western AU, and a dumbass virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18888214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoStarsky/pseuds/BoStarsky
Summary: “Leave the kid alone, Sue. Can’t you see he’s at sea?” Ben isn’t sure if he should be grateful for the stranger diverting the woman’s attention or offended at the implication that he’s stupid. He knows damn well what she wants out of him, thank you very much, and he’s about to say just that when he sees the owner of that Irish lilt and the words die in his throat.





	Sheep Shit and Other Things

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, at long last, the result of me binging Red Dead Redemption 2 and reawakening my love for westerns.
> 
> Thank you to Nerdherderette for the fantastic beta!
> 
> Enjoy

The livestock town of Arkanis is little more than a mud hole surrounded by woodland a day’s ride from the nearest train station. It’s Ben’s least favourite kind of town. It wouldn’t be half as bad if it had smelled of anything other than shit, shit, and more shit, because not only do the livestock smell of it, the people do too. The stench clings to their boots and coats, and he’s sure they even sweat it, but he’s not inclined to find out. Another downside is that it’s smack dab in bear country, which means a day’s ride feels more like wearing a vest made of pork chops while trying to sneak past a den of starving bears, only to arrive at a disappointing collection of log houses interspersed with several more modern buildings that have seen better days. 

****

One of these  _ “modern” _ buildings serves as a cat house, hotel, and saloon, with the option of a bath should a weary traveller want one. Apart from the self-proclaimed Mayor’s house and barn, it’s the biggest building, and despite the dirty floor that also smells like shit, it’s surprisingly inviting. It seems a bar is a bar no matter where you go, and that brings a certain measure of comfort whenever his father dumps him there to go do whatever business they came here for. 

****

Ben can’t honestly say if he regrets talking his mother into letting him tag along on one of Han’s little business trips or not. On the one hand, it’s only etiquette lessons and calligraphy back at the estate; on the other, it’s a mud hole in the middle of nowhere, full of drunk farmers who drink to forget about their sad little lives. Not to mention after travelling this far, Han won’t even let Ben come to the meetings. If he wanted to go sit in a bar and watch drunks get drunker he could have gone into town, which would have taken him all of twenty minutes.

****

So here he is — listening to laughter, arguments, and someone being violently ill to the backdrop of a ragtime piano that is just slightly out of tune. When they set out on this horseshit adventure he wasn’t exactly expecting thrilling gunfights and daring escapes, even Han wouldn’t drag him into that, no matter how good of a shot Ben is, but as it is now, he’d gladly take getting shot at over drinking watered-down beer. 

****

There’s a bustle of noise from the doors, another pack of muddy farmhands stumbling in from outside. Ben doesn’t pay them any mind, just stares at the woodgrain in his little corner table where he’s trying not to draw too much attention to himself. Someone sidles up to him, the click of heels on the floor giving her away as his worst fear in places like this.

****

“Hey, darlin’,” she drawls, running her hand down his arm. “You look awfully lonely over here all by yourself. Would you like a little company?”

****

Ben tries not to shudder; she’s just doing her job, he tells himself. It does nothing to lessen his revulsion for what she wants. He’s never cared for girls, the stench of sweat hidden under sickly perfume, the sight of breasts spilling over a too-tight corset failing to garner the supposedly correct reaction from him. This is exactly why he likes travelling with Han whenever he can; out in the wilderness, there’s no women for his mother to force on him or to approach him of their own volition. Out there, nobody gives a shit about his preference.

****

“No, thank you, Miss.” There’s no point in being rude.

****

“You sure? I could warm you up real nice,” she offers in an inviting tone meant to sway any man that hasn’t felt a soft touch in a long while. Ben shudders to think what kind of diseases fester in her body as a result. He wonders how long is Han’s meeting going to take. “Is it your first time, honey?” 

****

“Leave the kid alone, Sue. Can’t you see he’s at sea?” Ben isn’t sure if he should be grateful for the stranger diverting the woman’s attention or offended at the implication that he’s stupid. He knows damn well what she wants out of him, thank you very much, and he’s about to say just that when he sees the owner of that Irish lilt and the words die in his throat. 

****

“He seems just fine to me,” Sue pouts but moves on when the handsome Irishman gives her a look. 

****

“Tell me; what’s someone like you doing here?” That sharp gaze is now turned on Ben, leaving him feeling even more lost. 

****

“Waiting for my father,” he answers, perhaps unwisely as it reveals how he’s too inexperienced to be out here on his own, too used to the frippery of high society as opposed to this den of iniquity. Then again, his ornamental gun belt might have given him away, regardless; the leather still new and stiff, and he doesn’t look like the kind of man who would frequent somewhere like this on his own.   
  
“I take it your father is upstairs with one of my girls.” So he’s the box herder, then. “And I take it you aren’t much interested in tits and skirts.” Pulling out the other chair at the table, the Irishman takes a seat, situating himself elegantly in a fluffed-up chair that has seen better days.   
  
“My father is a married man, sir,” Ben snaps, but the ginger only smiles. There’s no lack of married men in a place like this. “And for your information, we’re in town on business. My father’s not in here.” Bragging won’t do him any good; for all he knows, he could be talking to the wrong man.   
  
“And you came here of your own, then. Just to take up space in one of my chairs?”    
  
“No...” Ben falters, finding no bravado left to draw on. 

****

The irishman laughs, and a humiliated flush rises to Ben’s cheeks, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone more out of place in my life.” He gestures at the barman, which results in two shots of whiskey being brought over. “How old are you, love?”

****

Now Ben’s flushing for an entirely different reason. “Nineteen” He probably shouldn’t have said that either, but how much damage can sharing his age do? It’s not like he a little kid anymore; he has as much right to be here as anyone else.   
  
“My name is Hux.” One of the shots slides over the grainy table to where they sit, his cool, green eyes watching Ben carefully. “I think I can help you have a good time until your father returns.” Hux throws back the shot in one smooth swallow, without a single flinch crossing his stupidly handsome face.   
  
_ Shit,  _ is he going to have to now? Is Hux going to send him off with one of the women and doom him to whatever she wants to do with him? The thought alone makes bile burn at the back of Ben’s throat. He’s going to need that drink,  _ now _ . Mildly panicking, he downs the whiskey; it’s rough compared to what he’s used to, and has him coughing to cope with the sting, eyes watering. How _ the fuck  _ did Hux do that with a straight face?

****

Hux laughs at Ben’s discomfort, putting his glass on the table, upside down. “You look scared, love,” he drawls. Ben thinks maybe he should leave, go sit with the horses until Han comes back. Then again, he had said the  _ “meeting”  _ might take a while, and it’s not exactly warm outside. Maybe he can hide out in the barn?

****

“I’m not interested in any of your girls.” The table isn’t a very enlightening conversationalist, but Ben knows that if he were to look into those piercing eyes again, he’d agree to anything this man wants, just to see him smile.   
  
“I see.” The chair creaks, and Ben thinks he’s about to be thrown out for taking up space that could be filled by a paying customer. “There are other options.” 

****

Already Ben is jumping to conclusions, and it must show on his face for Hux quickly interjects before he can make a fool of himself.   
  
“We offer more than just our lovely ladies for those that have...other interests,” he hints.   
  
Ben’s eyes remained glued to the table, mind working to count out how much money he has should he be forced to shell out for a brush he doesn’t want. Not to mention how Han would never shut up about it if he came back to find Ben in the clutches of a professional.

****

He’d probably be proud.

****

If Ben is to be entirely honest, he’d rather die or contract tetanus from sitting on a rusty nail in the shit-laden barn. Maybe he ought to go set up camp outside of town and hope the bears won’t smell his misery and eat him.

****

An exasperated sigh bursts forth from across the table as a hint of whiskey and cigar smoke waft over along with it. “Jesus, do I have to spell it out for you?” Without warning, a slender hand finds its way into Ben’s lap, cupping his crotch in a way that can only have one meaning. “Are you really this slow, or just naive?”   
  
At this, Ben finally looks up to find Hux much closer than he had been. He feels like he should be mad at being called both stupid and naive, that it’s something he ought to reach for his gun to resolve, but all he can do is gape like a fish and turn an unflattering shade of red. In reality, Hux isn’t too far off the mark, either, though Ben would hesitate to say he’s naive, more like inexperienced in matters of the flesh due to his revulsion for the female anatomy.

****

A glance around the room reveals that no one is paying them any mind, like it’s not strange for the box herder to take on a customer from time to time. The girl that comes over to refill their glasses doesn’t so much as bat an eye at the sight of Hux’s hand in Ben’s lap or the fact that Hux’s intense stare is making Ben react in increasingly embarrassing ways.   
  
A second shot, and down it goes. Hux rises from his chair, taking his hand with him, and Ben thinks now’s the opportune moment to turn tail and run, yet he can’t deny how much he wants this. Perhaps it’s ill-advised to follow when the Irishman gestures for him to do so, yet he does it anyway and up the stairs they go, the piano music fading into the background to make way for the noises that cause a shiver run down Ben’s back. They continue down the hall until they reach the very last room, where it’s as private as it’ll get.   
  
Ben’s not sure what he expected to find on the other side of the door, but it wasn’t this surprisingly normal bedroom with its striped wallpaper and sturdy wooden bed. Not that he’s ever been this deep in a brothel before; for all he knows, the back rooms might have less care put into them than the ones up front. It does put him a little at ease to discover it’s just an ordinary room and not some perfumed den full of useless comforts that give off an air of fake romance and femininity.

****

Hux waves him in impatiently, shutting the door behind him with enough force that the slam frays Ben’s already-frazzled nerves further. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that second shot after all, should have risked tetanus and bears instead of whatever this man has planned for him. 

****

_ Oh god _ . He could get murdered up here, and no one would think twice if he screamed. Why the fuck did he agree to this?

****

Not that he agreed so much as followed a gorgeous man he knew nothing about to his room, in a strange town in the middle of nowhere on the vague chance he  _ might  _ lose his virginity and come away from this trip with something else to remember besides the insides of yet another saloon. 

****

Then again, he’s never been one to follow the rules down to the letter. If Han is going to make him wait all night, he might as well have some fun, right? Provided he’s not about to get murdered.   
  
“I can hear you thinking all the way over here.” That Irish lilt startles Ben out of his spiralling thoughts, bringing him back to the room where Hux is waiting expectantly by the bed. 

****

Ben hadn’t moved an inch since stepping into the room, remaining frozen by the door until he remembers his manners and takes his hat off. He stands like a statue as he clutches the brim of his bulldogger, but at least he’s polite.

****

“You’ve really never done this before, have you?” It’s not so much a question as it is a statement. Ben gets as far as opening his mouth to protest before realising there would be no point. If it wasn’t obvious now that he hadn’t the slightest idea what he was doing, then it would be once their clothes come off. He couldn’t bullshit his way through this, even if he was the best bullshitter in america.

****

“No, sir,” he admits to the floor, which is an even worse conversationalist than the table had been.   


Footsteps approach until a pair of polished shoes appear opposite his own too-new boots. “Call me Tidge.” Soft fingers find their way under Ben’s chin, tipping his head up until he’s looking into a pair of sharp eyes that now hold a hint of softness around their edges.

****

“I’m Ben,” he blurts out finally once he realises he never introduced himself. 

****

“Well, Ben, I’m going to teach you a few things tonight.” Tidge smiles, and Ben knows he’s going to agree to whatever Tidge wants. “How about we start with a kiss?” The fingers holding his chin turn into a palm cupping his jaw, and suddenly those green eyes are so close Ben can count the specks of grey and blue, Tidge’s warm whiskey tinted breath brushing over his lips.

****

They stand there for a moment, barely an inch between them before he realises Tidge is waiting for him to make the next move. He will botch this; it’s just fact. Ben’s never kissed anyone on the mouth before, only on their cheeks and hands, and he knows that he will fuck this up. His knowledge of kissing is limited to observing others at a distance, and even then it’s nothing that wouldn’t be acceptable in polite company.   
  
Tidge, on the other hand, is a box herder; he’s likely seen things that Ben can’t even imagine being possible, and going by this situation they’re in, might have participated in a fair amount as well. Here, Ben’s both outsmarted and outgunned. It’s like being dropped into a vast ocean with rocks in his boots and being expected to swim without instruction. All he can do is hope he won’t be left flailing when it turns out he can’t do so much as a dog paddle.

****

Bound for failure, he takes the plunge.  He awkwardly presses their lips together in a school yard kiss, with about as much refinement as a cowhand at a black tie event. It lasts for all of two seconds before he’s pulling back, trying to look anywhere other than Tidge, sure that he’s displeased with Ben’s inexperience.

****

As he expects, Tidge laughs--well, huffs, really. Ben thinks he should turn around and leave, to not make this any worse than it already is, but Tidge’s hand is still cupping his jaw, the touch warm despite the flush on Ben’s face. “There’s no need to be so modest. I’m no blushing lady.”

****

“I don’t know how.”

****

Tidge has probably figured out as much already. Ben really, really does not know what he’s doing, only that he wants to do it. 

****

“How does a dandy like you end up all the way out here? I don’t think I’ve ever met a more innocent virgin.” Whatever protest Ben may have is swallowed up, dying a peaceful death on Tidge’s lips.

****

He would have expected keeping up to pose an issue but Tidge is surprisingly gentle with him, trading whiskey-flavoured kisses until Ben can manage on his own before upping the stakes. Tongues he’s even less prepared to deal with, though he won’t complain, all too happily letting Tidge into his mouth. This is one way of learning new things he could grow to love.

****

Thoughtlessly he follows when they separate, not quite ready to stop just yet. Tidge chuckles and Ben opens his eyes, finding the Irishman looking frustratingly well put together when he himself feels like anything but. “Come on, love,” he beckons and Ben follows, letting Tidge steer him over to the bed where those lovely hands work open his gun belt with a not-so-gentle yank that puts enough pressure on his budding erection to startle a gasp out of him. Tidge hangs the belt over his bedpost, and Ben hopes it’s a sign of trust and not one that says he’ll get robbed or killed once Tidge is done with him.

****

Ben’s never had much shame where his body is concerned, confident in his broad build. It’s a little different when somebody else is undressing you, however. Tidge doesn’t seem to be particularly romantic about it, given the way he peels off his black shotgun coat and slips open the buttons on his vest with something akin to disinterest. Ben’s cock doesn’t seem to mind, still hard and throbbing from their simple kiss and the anticipation of what’s to happen.

****

“What, uh--” Ben pauses, searching for the right words. “What exactly are we doing?” Not that he’d know what any of it really means. He’s heard things at the saloon back home as well as from the servants who talk to him, words and phrases, bragging about what they get their women to do for them.

****

“One step at a time,” Tidge reveals cryptically while working his way down the buttons of Ben’s shirt.

****

Right about the time Tidge leans in to nuzzle at the bared skin of his neck, soft lips leaving little spots of heat, Ben realises that he ought to be doing something, too. He’s not entirely sure what he’s allowed to do, so he figures the safest bet would be to undress Tidge in return. It’s not like they can do this fully clothed. Three buttons down, Tidge gently pushes his hands away so he can strip Ben of his vest and shirt, exposing him to the cool air of the room.

****

Before he has time to worry too much about Tidge’s opinion of his body, his pecs are being cupped and pushed together.

****

“You’d look good in a corset,” Tidge hums thoughtfully.

****

Ben fights the urge to cover his chest like a blushing church wife. 

****

Then Tidge pinches his nipples, and the lewd comment is forgotten in favour of the pleasurable spark that arises. His face must not hide anything, since Tidge smirks and does it again, prompting a quiet moan. “Sensitive,” he notes, his hands creeping further down to pop open the straining buttons keeping Ben’s trousers together.

****

Anticipation grows the closer Tidge gets to his cock that’s begging for attention. He won’t last long; it will be the first time someone has touched him so intimately, and as wound up as he is, a few strokes will likely be enough to carry him over the edge. 

****

“Get your boots off.” Startled back to the present, Ben rushes to do as he’s told. He sits on the edge of the bed so he can wrench off his boots and trousers and comes to an abrupt stop once he gets to his drawers, looking to Tidge for guidance. After a brief nod of encouragement, he’s unlacing the front and hesitantly pushing them down, scared that he’s too weird-looking or not good enough in some way.

****

Too busy with his own insecurities, he doesn’t notice that Tidge has divested himself of his own clothes until a whole lot of naked skin suddenly appears before him where he sits, self-consciously covering his crotch. He hasn’t seen a whole lot of cocks in his life, and now that he’s looking right at one, he’s at a loss. Even limp it’s thick and reasonably long, surrounded by a nest of ginger hair and he can’t help being a little disappointed that Tidge isn’t showing any physical interest yet.

****

He’s heard from some of the more adventurous boys in the city that the French use their mouths. Does Tidge expect him to do that? He can’t imagine it would be very pleasant.

****

“Hands,” Tidge demands and Ben reluctantly raises them, opening himself up for scrutiny. “You have nothing to be embarrassed of, love.” Ben’s not sure if there’s such a thing as death from blushing, but if there is he might be in danger of it, because he’s pretty sure he hasn’t stopped since he followed Tidge up to this room.

****

Slim fingers wrap around Ben’s wrists, guiding his hands onto Tidge’s soft stomach. 

****

“You’re allowed to touch.” Hearing that eases Ben’s mind a little, though he still worries about how and where to touch. It’s enough to make his cock jump excitedly when the pale skin unders his calloused hands twitches in response to his soft touches.

****

He hesitatingly feels his way across a flat chest, taking in the sparse patch of hair in the middle and the constellation of faint freckles that had been hiding under his immaculate shirt. Tidge smiles encouragingly, tipping Ben’s head back so he can lean in and plant a soft kiss on his lips. Tidge presses closer reaching down to run a teasing hand up the inside of his thigh, Ben freezes, a little whimper escaping him at the tingling sensations Tidge’s fingers leave behind.

****

His train of thought comes to a screeching halt when Tidge touches him at last, delicate fingers tracing a path from the dripping head and down to cup his swollen balls, and Ben has to close his eyes to keep from coming right there. Logically, it shouldn’t feel so different to have someone else touch him, but it has his heart racing, hammering against his ribcage as Tidge massages his sack, those long fingers questing further back between his cheeks.

****

Ben jumps when the tip of a finger brushes over his hole, letting out an embarrassing squeak. He stares at Tidge, whose pink lips quirk into a smile.

****

“Would you like me to stop?” Tidge asks, the hand between Ben’s legs stilling. His smile grows when Ben shakes his head. “How about we take care of this first?” Tidge’s hand is retreating now, following the crease between groin and thigh, up to his lower stomach where the muscles jerk away from the light touch. When Tidge finally wraps his hand around him Ben’s breath catches in his throat. 

****

Ben can’t keep his noises to himself if he tried, moaning freely as Tidge brings him off with a few firm strokes. He’s not even disappointed it didn’t last longer, flying high on his orgasm and rutting up into the slackening grip around him.

****

His mind is reeling from the surge of pleasure, the world slowly becoming cohesive again, and with it the memory that this was just a transaction he’ll have to pay for now. How much does he expect? But instead of demanding money, Tidge pushes him down onto the bed, smearing Ben’s release over his chest at the same time. “Try to relax and don’t be scared to say ‘stop.’” From the nightstand, Tidge plucks a glass bottle, pulling the top off and pouring a generous amount of oil into the tumbler that sits next to it. Ben’s confusion only grows as he’s turned onto his stomach with a firm push and Tidge kneels between his spread legs. A nervous apprehension washes through him when his cheeks are spread and an oil-slicked finger prods at his hole.

****

_ What...? _

****

The finger pushes into him, and Ben thinks his lungs might have stopped working.   
  
Tidge must have noticed his distress, because he stops and leans down to place soft kisses along Ben’s tense shoulders. “Relax, love, it’ll feel good,” he whispers, wiggling his finger a little deeper and nudging it against a spot inside of Ben that sends a spark of pleasure straight to his spent cock. “There it is.” Tidge drawls.

****

Clearly, there’s a whole lot Ben didn’t know about his body; before this, he never would have considered putting anything up his ass. Now, it might become a regular feature if it feels that fucking good. Tidge brushes over that spot a few more times, and with each pass, Ben can feel himself relaxing and opening up to the intrusion, eventually pushing back against Tidge’s hand in search for something more.

****

When a second finger is added, Ben’s just as surprised as he was at the first. Surely no more than two can fit; he can already feel the slight burn from  _ too much, _ but damn, if it doesn’t feel good every time Tidge touches that hidden place. This has to be a sin of some sort.

****

If it is, God, Jesus, and all their friends can take a long walk into the desert, because he’s going to hell and he’s not the slightest bit sorry about it.

****

It takes no time at all for Tidge to reduce him to a trembling mess, aching for  _ more.  _ Three fingers now and Ben’s feeling so pleasantly full that it can’t possibly get better, except for maybe four if there’s room. Moaning loudly, he presses down to rub his stirring cock against the smooth sheets, struggling to decide which urge to submit to, to push back on those long fingers or rut against the bed. Either way he’ll get off; it’s more of a matter of deciding whether he wants it fast or to drag it out a while.

****

Tidge takes the choice away from him, removing his fingers and leaving Ben feeling empty, clenching around nothing but air and whining at the loss. He perks up again when the tumbler of oil is picked up, slick sounds coming from behind. Glancing back over his shoulder, he’s treated to the view of Tidge slicking his hard cock and his heart skips a beat in fear or excitement, he’s not entirely sure which. 

****

“You can do that?” he squeaks.

****

“We don’t have to.”

****

For a few seconds, Ben is torn between staring at the oil-slicked cock resting atop his ass and Tidge’s open and caring face. “Does it hurt?”

****

“It shouldn’t. I’ve stretched you plenty,” Tidge smiles reassuringly.

****

Thinking of how good it felt to have Tidge’s fingers inside him, Ben can only imagine that a cock wouldn’t be much different, so he nods and sweeps his sweat-matted hair back from where it’s sticking to his face.

****

“Lift your hips for me, love.” Ben follows Tidge’s instruction, raising his ass in the air so Tidge can shove two pillows under him.Being on display like this has him feeling a little self conscious, but by now he trusts Tidge not to harm him. “Relax. Say ‘stop’ if it hurts.” A soothing hand strokes along his spine a few times, coaxing his body into releasing the tension he’d picked back up.

****

There’s nothing for a moment and then the blunt head of a cock is pressing against his hole, pushing past the rim. The deeper Tidge gets, the more Ben realises that he’s definitely bigger than three fingers. Like he’d been promised, there’s no pain however--only the overwhelming feeling of being filled, of sharing something like this with another person when just an hour ago, he hadn’t thought any of it possible.

****

When their bodies are finally flush, Tidge lets out a pleased moan, leaning over until he’s stretched along Ben’s back. “Alright?” he murmurs into Ben’s neck, breath hot on Ben’s sweat-slick skin.

****

Ben makes a positive hum, the words escaping him as he adjusts to the feeling of having someone inside him.  _ Fuck, _ it feels good.

****

Tidge moves and Ben groans, hands fisting the sheets and back arching to push his hips up. The pace set is slow and accommodating, drawing things out until he’s begging for more, faster, harder, anything. This time, he’s given what he needs without question as Tidge fucks him into the mattress hard enough for the bedframe to creak and groan.

****

With each thrust brushing past that spot, the pressure in his groin is quick to build, his hips bucking against the pillow in search of a friction the soft fabric can’t fully provide. Behind him Tidge is breathing hard, exering quiet huffs with each thrust, gripping Ben’s hips tightly and pulling him back onto his cock

****

Ben is flying, his mind blanking out as he’s reduced to a drooling, moaning mess, every part of him burning with pleasure. He’s so close, so damn close. Tidge leans forward, changing the angle just so and the bubble bursts, seizing his body in the most powerful orgasm he’s ever had, sparks lighting up behind his closed eyes as he clenches around the cock in his ass.

****

The pain of over stimulation has his toes curling as Tidge bends over him, fucking him through his orgasm and then some until he follows with a gasp, his cock twitching inside Ben and startling another whimper out of him. A few soft kisses trail over his shoulder before Tidge brushes Ben’s hair aside and continues onto his neck, niping gently at the flushed skin for a few moments before sitting back and pulling out.

****

“I don’t think I can move,” Ben croaks, grimacing a little at the feeling of come dripping out of his sore ass. His entire body feels like he’s ended up under a cattle drive, but the cattle is a skinny Irishman with a generous cock, so maybe not that much after all. He does know it feels damn good though. His bones have gone soft and wobbly; he couldn’t walk out of here if he tried.

****

“Then don’t.” The mattress dips as Tidge gets up, padding across the floor. The sound of pouring water reaches his ears, sloshing into the washbasin he’d seen by the wardrobe; there’s a few minutes of silence between them as Tidge washes up and gets dressed. “I have to go back downstairs, but you can stay if you’d like.”

****

The bed dips again, he’s given a cold water shock as a wet cloth wipes down his sensitive ass. “How much do I owe you?” He tries his best to remember just how much cash he has while he’s being cleaned like a newborn by a man he barely knows.

****

“Nothing.” Tidge pushes him off the pillows to flop onto his back, stripping off the come-stained cases and pulling a couple of new ones from under the bed. After everything’s back in order, he leans down to capture Ben’s lips in a lazy kiss. “It’s on the house.”

****

Ben would protest, but now’s not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth so he just smiles up at Tidge, “Thank you.”

****

Now that he has a safe place to spend the night, the rest of the world can wait until tomorrow. He’s asleep almost as soon as he’s closed his eyes, waking only to make room for another body several hours later before dropping off again.

****

Waking up he has the vague memory of Tidge getting into bed in the wee hours of the morning, but it’s still a pleasant surprise to find he wasn’t just a figment of  Ben’s imagination. He looks around the sparse room, seeing his clothes neatly folded and stacked on a chair by the wardrobe. He should probably leave before Tidge wakes up.

****

Carefully sliding out of bed, Ben dresses as quickly and quietly as he can, cursing under his breath when he can’t find his hat. He decides to just leave it and buy a new one at the general store before they leave. He gently lifts his gun belt from the bedpost and takes a minute to just look at Tidge, taking in his sleep ruffled hair and soft features, marvelling at the memory of last night and wishing he could stay. That he could just crawl back into bed and snuggle up to Tidge’s warm body. He has to firmly remind himself that this wasn’t anything more than a job to the Irishman and that he’d probably prefer it if Ben was long gone by the time he wakes up.

****

A quick detour to the outhouse and then he’s off to find his father. Who, perhaps predictably, he finds having breakfast and chatting up one of the working girls. Before he’s even had the chance to sit down, Han sends the girl off with an order for more breakfast.

****

“Heard you had a good time last night, kid,” he grins as Ben flops into the chair opposite him. “Betty says you went upstairs with someone called Ginger.”

****

Of course, Han couldn’t sit on this tidbit of information without bringing it up. The pride in his eyes only makes it worse.  “It’s not like that,” Ben defends himself. “I was just sleeping; she showed me to my room.” 

****

Betty returns with a bowl of stew and Ben digs in, happy for the distraction. Alas, his father can never leave well enough alone. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, kid,” he goes on, seemingly ignorant of Ben’s embarrassment and disgust concerning the subject at hand. “I’ve hired a few girls myself, before I met your mother.” 

****

“Dad, no; I don’t want to hear about it,” Ben cuts in before he loses his appetite entirely. “Just leave it.”

****

Surprisingly enough,  Han does, though not without making a face first.

****

“Listen, kid,” Han sighs. “Something came up, and I’m gonna have to leave you here a few more days while I take care of it. I’d bring you along, but Leia’d have my neck if you got hurt. I promise it won’t take long...three days, tops.”

****

Yesterday, Ben would have been mad and it would have probably ended in a fight. Today, he can’t honestly say he minds all that much, not when there’s a chance he might get to repeat last night.

****

As if on cue Tidge comes striding down the stairs with purpose, looking as polished as ever as he carries a hat Ben recognises as his own. He stops at the last step, looking around the bar until his eyes land on their table, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

****

“You left your hat, love.” Ignorant, or perhaps just unafraid of what people might think Tidge runs a hand through Ben’s hair and carefully adjusts the hat until he deems it just right. 

****

Ben’s face is flaming hot. He shifts in his chair, suddenly acutely aware of what they’d been doing just a few hours prior.

****

“I think you’ll be just fine,” Han scoffs, eyes widening as he appears to make the connection. “You treat him right, Irish,” he winks before plucking his own hat from the table and making his way to the doors. “See you in three days, kid.”

****

Ben stares at the swinging doors until Han has mounted his cranky, old mare and headed off, leaving him in silence with Tidge whose smirk has grown considerably.

****

“I’m sure I could keep you occupied for three days,” he leers, stroking a hand down Ben’s cheek.

****

Han is right, Ben reckons. He’ll be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> just in case you were wondering a Box Herder is the guy in charge of the prostitutes in a brothel.


End file.
